


How Does Your Love Feel?

by engine



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Post-Canon, Season: Spring in Hieron, Spring in Hieron Spoilers, mostly about each other, they're stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29981025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engine/pseuds/engine
Summary: For years, Ephrim had thought his feelings for Throndir were obvious. Apparently not. But if Throndir really didn’t know, maybe Ephrim still had a chance.
Relationships: Ephrim/Throndir (Friends at the Table)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	How Does Your Love Feel?

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this at the beginning of december and got very stuck but it's finally done! this was supposed to be a humor fic and it's still funny but also it's sappy because i can't write anything without getting extremely emotional about them. happy sangfielle day here's a hieron fic!

When Throndir had left Ephrim’s office for Marielda, he’d also left behind a growing suspicion in Ephrim’s mind. With every passing minute it gained ground, like a rising tide, until Ephrim was almost certain his suspicion was right. For years, Ephrim had assumed Throndir’s lack of acknowledgement was just Throndir being his usual softhearted self: this was his way of letting Ephrim down easy when he’d realized how Ephrim felt and couldn’t reciprocate. After the things Throndir had said, though, Ephrim wasn’t certain anymore. And if he _had_ misunderstood Throndir’s intentions, was there anything Ephrim could do about it?

As he recovered from his injuries, Ephrim thought about this question a lot. Even if he was right about Throndir’s ignorance, it didn’t mean he’d be receptive to Ephrim’s feelings. Still, it didn’t stop Ephrim from wondering… maybe. Maybe it wasn’t hopeless. Maybe he had a chance.

At the very least, he had to try.

-

Between his health and all the work necessary to get the University back up and running, it was a month before Ephrim had the time to try anything. Both he and Throndir had responsibilities, to the settlement and to specific people, and although Ephrim was mostly confined to his quarters, Throndir was running around the city, limiting his ability to visit. After years of lengthy strategy meetings in his office and quiet dinners in the garden, Ephrim hated the new distance, but it gave him a good excuse to track Throndir down the moment he was back on his feet.

His plan was a simple one: first he would try and gauge Throndir’s interest, and then, depending on the results, he could either back off or press harder. But maybe that simplicity doomed him: instead of finding Throndir somewhere around the University, preferably with _some_ privacy, Ephrim found him in the cafeteria at lunchtime. He was standing by one of the serving stations, peering down at the limited food options on offer. All the food these days was a bizarre mix of the supplies that survived Samot’s attack and some of the easily foraged herbs and fruits of the New Spring, and Throndir’s focus seemed outsized for the task at hand.

Despite the number of people surrounding them, Ephrim was committed to his plan. He needed to do something before he lost his mind. Taking a deep, bracing breath, he walked over to stand beside Throndir, then leaned closer, their arms pressing together. Throndir glanced down at him and smiled.

“Oh, hey,” Throndir said, voice bright with happiness. “I didn’t know you were eating down here again.”

Ephrim hesitated for a moment. “Sometimes,” he said. “When I feel up to it.”

Throndir’s smile faded a bit, and Ephrim could see him remembering how bad Ephrim’s injuries had been. How bad they still were, really, and in some ways would always be. Ephrim didn’t like to think about it either. Throndir looked back at the food, a pensive expression on his face, and after a few more seconds Ephrim huffed out a sigh.

“You’re _allowed_ to eat, you know,” Ephrim said, changing the subject. He tilted his head to look up at Throndir. “Just because you don’t have to doesn’t mean you _can’t_.”

Throndir looked visibly sheepish. “No, I know, I just—I kind of want to try everything? But I don’t _need_ to, so I’d feel bad if I took that much.”

“Oh my god, Throndir,” Ephrim said, laughing. “There’s no rush. They’ll make the same things again. You can try them all, I promise.”

“I know! I know,” Throndir repeated. “It’s just… I don’t know if I ever told you about when I first got to Velas? I was really excited about all the food. We had some good stuff in Auniq, but—you know, with that much snow, there wasn’t a ton of variety over the years. It was fun, trying all the new stuff.” He paused, and looked down at Ephrim. “It’s just been a while since I was able to enjoy a good meal, that’s all.”

Ephrim’s words caught in his throat and his chest tightened. There had been so many years at the University where food had been scarce, but even when they’d had plenty—even when it had tasted _good_ —Throndir had only ever eaten when Ephrim brought dinner to the garden to share. He always made sure everyone else ate first because, after all, he didn’t need food to survive. It was one of the things Ephrim loved about him, but it was also infuriating. The food stores might be low, but Throndir was allowed to enjoy things, too; it wasn’t fair to ask him to give that up.

Ephrim turned, angling himself along Throndir’s side, as close as he could get. One of Throndir’s hands came up to rest on his back, apparently on instinct, and Ephrim just barely kept himself from shivering. “Okay, so how about you just finish whatever I don’t? Everyone working in the kitchen keeps trying to give me more than I need anyway, and then you can try two things instead of just one.”

“They’re doing that because you almost died and still eat like a bird,” Throndir said, amused.

Ephrim rolled his eyes. “I’m just not that hungry! I sit around all day!”

“Right, sure,” Throndir said, laughing a little. Before Ephrim could say anything else, Throndir put his hands on Ephrim’s hips to move him back towards the tables, nudging him in that direction. “Go find a spot and I’ll grab the food, okay?”

Heat rushed through Ephrim’s body, and the sensation of Throndir’s hands lingered even after Throndir turned back to the food and the halfling working kitchen duty. Ephrim couldn’t move, could barely breathe, thoughts spiraling off into areas not appropriate for a public setting. If that behavior had come from anyone else, Ephrim certainly would’ve thought they were returning his attention. No one just… did that. Right? Then again, it wasn’t as though they’d never had physical contact before, over the years. That was why it was so hard to tell with someone like Throndir, whose penchant for physical affection was only tempered by the amount it had been denied to him over the years. Maybe—

Something bumped against his hand, startling him from his thoughts. Ephrim blinked and looked down at Kodiak sitting next to him, head cocked to one side. On any other dog, it would’ve seemed like confusion, but the look in Kodiak’s eyes made Ephrim feel like the dog somehow knew exactly what Ephrim was freaking out about. It was enough to shake him out of his stupor and get him moving to one of the less occupied tables to grab a seat. He could think about next steps later, locked away in his office where no one could see him.

-

So. His first attempt was a failure. Ephrim cushioned his head on his arm as he laid down on his desk, ignoring his work in favor of sulking. Lunch had been fine—nice, even—but despite his clear interest, and despite Throndir’s willingness to participate in physical contact, nothing had really seemed all that different. Throndir had asked how he was feeling, and made him promise to rest despite the work that just kept piling up. Then he told Ephrim about how a bunch of the guards were helping Rosana sew heavy curtains for all the windows to block out the light from too many suns, despite most of them being terrible at sewing. It was nice and normal, and Ephrim hadn’t laughed that much in over a month, but it wasn’t what he _wanted_. At least not entirely.

It _had_ given him an idea, though. Ephrim sat up and rested his chin on his left hand, staring at his open window, beginning to craft a new plan.

-

Two days later, after a stop in the kitchens, Ephrim walked to the Range carrying a sack full of pastries still warm from the oven. All he’d had to do was mention he wanted to bring some food to Throndir and they’d been happy to help. When he’d told Throndir that everyone at the University cared about him, he hadn’t been lying. The people respected Ephrim because of his position; they _loved_ Throndir because he was warm and good and always ready to help. Ephrim could relate.

The Range was set up like a pavilion, half-open on one side with columns supporting the timber roof, and as Ephrim walked to the far side, he heard the sound of Blue Jay’s voice. Sound carried through the Range, and Throndir’s gun was loudest of all, but the University had grown used to its noise over the past year or so. Blue Jay’s voice became clearer as Ephrim rounded the corner, and he paused at the entrance to watch for a moment, smiling when Throndir laughed at Blue Jay’s story. Kodiak noticed Ephrim first and stood up from where he’d been laying in a patch of sun to amble over, accepting scratches behind his ears as he sniffed the air around the sack in Ephrim’s arms.

Blue Jay spotted Ephrim next, as he was pulling a pastry from the sack to give to Kodiak. They waved hello, and that made Throndir finally turn around too.

“Ephrim! One second,” he said, beaming, before he turned back to aim down range. His expression shifted into something serious and focused, and Ephrim’s stomach swooped pleasantly at the sight as Throndir fired. The crack of the gunshot was even louder this close, and Kodiak’s ears pinned back against his head. Throndir lowered the gun and tilted his head, shrugged, and popped open the chamber, sending the empty shell flying.

The target he’d been using was made from parchment, painted similarly to the archery target in the next lane over. At the center of it was a giant hole, proof that Throndir had hit the bullseye multiple times in a row; the archery target was similarly destroyed, at least ten arrows crowded around the center. Ephrim snorted. They were both such show-offs.

Blue Jay hopped over the counter to collect their arrows once Throndir clicked the safety on his gun. Slinging the strap of it over a shoulder, he finally turned to Ephrim, relaxed and smiling again.

“Practicing?” Ephrim said, leaning against one of the columns.

“Gotta stay sharp,” Throndir said. “Did you need me?”

Ephrim bit back his reflexive, half-joking reply that he _always_ needed Throndir and shook his head. “Nothing important. You missed lunch today.”

“Yeah, well.” Throndir shrugged as he walked over to Ephrim. “Like I said. I don’t need to use up our supplies all the time.” He paused, clearly catching the scent of the food, and looked at Kodiak, who was visibly hoping for more. “Ephrim…”

“I told you, you’re allowed to eat,” he said, holding out the sack. “They were trying new recipes and had extras. You can ask Emmanuel if you don’t believe me.”

Throndir shot him a suspicious look, but he still took the bag and opened it to see what Ephrim brought. Ephrim smiled, and put his hand on Throndir’s arm, squeezing gently.

“I know it’s not the same as when you were in Velas,” he said, “but I thought—”

“You brought food?” Blue Jay said, peering over Throndir’s shoulder to look into the bag. “Can I have some?”

Ephrim sighed and dropped his hand. “Sure, if Throndir doesn’t mind sharing.”

Throndir tilted the sack in Blue Jay’s direction and they beamed, reaching in to grab a pastry.

“Nice,” they said, inspecting it before taking an oversized bite. Ephrim shook his head and Throndir snorted.

“Thank you,” Throndir said, ignoring Blue Jay’s poor manners. His smile for Ephrim was warm and fond, and Ephrim smiled back helplessly. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Ephrim said. “That’s kind of the point.”

Blue Jay made a strangled noise, then coughed, turning away. Throndir looked at them, worried despite Blue Jay waving their hand when Throndir asked if they were okay.

“Fine, I’m fine,” they said, coughing a couple more times before clearing their throat. “Just—almost swallowed wrong. You know how it goes. The pastry’s good, though.”

Ephrim narrowed his eyes. Blue Jay pointedly didn’t make eye contact.

“If you’re sure,” Throndir said, patting their back. Blue Jay gave him a thumbs up, then glanced quickly at Ephrim before looking away again.

Ephrim bit back a sigh. Well. Most of the University seemed to have already figured out how Ephrim felt. What was one more? Still, it was obvious he wouldn’t make any progress towards his goal at the moment. Throndir kept hovering by Blue Jay, as if just his presence was enough to make sure they didn’t choke again, and Blue Jay was trying their best not to project their new secret knowledge to the world. Ephrim forced a smile onto his face—he had plenty of practice with that—and decided he’d done enough damage for the day.

“Tell the cooks what you think,” Ephrim said, pointing at the sack. “Both of you. I’m sure they’d appreciate the feedback.”

“Oh, yeah! Definitely,” Throndir said, turning back to Ephrim once he was confident Blue Jay wasn’t dying. “Are you going back to work?”

“Unfortunately.” Ephrim smiled and shrugged. “Always something to do.”

“Unfortunately,” Throndir echoed, smiling back. “Don’t work too hard. You’re still—”

“Recovering, I know,” Ephrim said. “Don’t skip dinner.” Throndir shrugged, still grinning, and reached into the sack to grab a pastry. Ephrim waved at Blue Jay as he left, and they waved back with a sheepish smile.

-

Despite the clear failure of this attempt, Ephrim still felt buoyed by it. Throndir’s smile carried him all the way back to the tower and through the rest of his afternoon’s paperwork. Later, after eating dinner with Highwater and discussing a possible training schedule to get his strength back up, he started brainstorming the next step of his plan.

Maybe he needed to bring Throndir a more personal gift than simply some snacks from the kitchen. Something more directly from Ephrim himself. He had an idea, but the problem would be delivering it at the right time. Since Throndir didn’t need to sleep, he was rarely in his room in the guard barracks—half the time, Kodiak was in there by himself, snoozing on the small cot. As far as Ephrim knew, the most reliable time to find Throndir in his quarters was when he was working on guard schedules with Hella or discussing new training routines, which was why Ephrim climbed to the top of the Three o’Clock Tower early the next morning.

Hella gazed out at the Rhizome, frowning in a thoughtful way, like the new world was a puzzle she could solve through force of will alone. Ephrim thought she’d probably manage it if she really tried. She glanced over at him when he crested the last stairs, only slightly out of breath. If his injuries alone hadn’t ruined his ability to accomplish physical activities, the following month in bed had finished the job.

“Hey, Hella,” he said, squinting out at the Rhizome as he came to stand beside her. The suns were bright up here. “How are you?”

“Good,” she said, suspicious. “How… are you?”

“Um, I’m okay.” He lifted his hand to shield his eyes, shifting his weight. “So, listen. I was hoping you could help me?”

She turned from the view and leaned against the wall. “I can try? What’s up?”

This was the part he’d never live down. “I was wondering what time you usually met with Throndir to work on the guard schedule,” he said as casually as he could, not looking at her.

Because she wasn’t an idiot, Hella raised her eyebrows. “I’m gonna guess this doesn’t actually have to do with the guard schedule.”

“Uh, no,” he said. “I just need to, um, talk to Throndir about something, and it would be easier in his room— _not_ like that, _don’t_ give me that look.”

Hella had started to grin in a knowing sort of way. “What look?”

“ _You_ know,” Ephrim said. He crossed his arms, and, mortifyingly, felt himself blush. “I just need to give him something, okay?”

“Right. Sure,” she said, grinning. “We’re working on it after lunch. Give us, like, an hour, maybe? We should be done by then.” She reached out to pat his shoulder with a little more strength than necessary. “Good luck.”

Ephrim grimaced. “Thanks,” he said drily. “I definitely need it.”

-

The door to Throndir’s room was open when Ephrim stopped by the guard barracks that afternoon. He could hear Hella and Throndir discussing the schedule inside, and he leaned against the wall next to the door, holding a small clay pot close to his chest. The plant growing from its soil wasn’t very big—he didn’t have that level of control yet—but it was _his_. Over the past month, he’d started a small garden on his balcony, experimenting with his new abilities when he couldn’t do more than curl up in a thick blanket in a comfy chair. He was taking it slow; he didn’t want a repeat of what happened when the stars had attacked, and surrounded by the New Spring, it would be easy to let it overwhelm him.

So Ephrim had started a collection of tiny clay pots and willed the Spring into existence within their soil. After a few weeks, his garden had grown into miniature version of the surreal Rhizome: moss with twinkling white flowers that reflected the suns, a succulent that produced one single fruit at a time the size of a berry and the color of a robin’s egg, a flower with petals that shimmered like silk. None were larger than the palm of his hand, and they seemed to survive on sunlight and ambient magic. Since Throndir didn’t keep many possessions in his room and rarely spent time there, a low maintenance gift seemed ideal.

The plant he’d chosen to give Throndir felt appropriate. The stems were a pale blue-green with tiny delicate leaves, and the flowers bloomed a translucent blue and white, as if carved from ice. Ephrim had never been to the Mark of the Erasure before the Advocate had destroyed it, but he _had_ seen snow. With everything that had happened, Ephrim wasn’t sure they’d ever see snow again. This flower might be the closest Throndir could get.

Chairs shifted against wood planks, and he heard Hella excuse herself. Ephrim pushed himself off the wall, suddenly nervous, not helped by the smirk Hella gave him as she passed by. He didn’t expect Throndir to be rude or anything, but Ephrim still felt strangely fragile. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Throndir reacted poorly or—whatever.

“I’m seeing you a lot this week,” Throndir said, poking his head out the door and smiling at Ephrim. Kodiak followed a second later, barking softly.

“Uh, is that bad?” Ephrim asked, self-conscious.

“No! That’s not what I meant.” He gestured for Ephrim to follow him back inside. “It’s nice.”

Throndir’s quarters in the barracks were small compared to Ephrim’s suite in the central tower, but the privacy made up for it. Most of the other people living here shared dormitories, and the fact that Throndir only had a small cot rather than a full bed in the corner made the room feel larger than it was. The window was a good size, too, letting in a large patch of sunlight onto the rug that sat in front of the wood-burning stove an a small shelf full of books and trinkets. Kodiak laid down in the sun after Ephrim scratched his head, and Throndir sat back down at the table beneath the window to stack up the papers he and Hella had left behind.

“You’ve been busy,” Ephrim said, sitting down across from him. He placed the flower pot on the table, but kept his hands resting on the sides. “And I wouldn’t have been good company. I slept a lot.”

Throndir paused, his face tensing for a moment before he managed a smile again. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said softly. Something about his tone settled deep under Ephrim’s skin, warmth diffusing through his limbs even as his chest ached with longing.

Before he could figure out what to say, though, Throndir’s gaze refocused onto the flower pot. “So what’s with the plant? Did you find it?”

“Um. No,” Ephrim said, his heart racing. “I, you know. Grew it?” He nudged the pot closer to Throndir, then put his hands on his lap. His left hand gripped the fabric of his cape, all nervous energy. “I want you to have it.”

Throndir’s eyes shot up to Ephrim, widening in surprise. “What? Hold on. You grew it?”

Ephrim tilted his head to the side, looking away. “I guess I never really explained it, and you didn’t see…” He sighed. This wasn’t something he liked to talk about, but Throndir, out of everyone, deserved to know. He’d spent years helping Ephrim through the worst of his illness, after all. “My connection to Samothes—he gave me the fire of his Forge, and then the Heat and the Dark he was using, too. That’s why I was sick. So when Alyosha took up Samothes’s hammer to create the Spring, I got… access to it, I guess. I can call on it, like calling on the Heat and the Dark.”

“Does it hurt you?” Throndir asked, leaning forward a bit, eyebrows drawn together with worry. “Like the Heat and the Dark?”

“I don’t think so,” Ephrim said. “At least not yet. And ever since the Rhizome—I mean, I haven’t tried to call on the Heat and the Dark, and I don’t want to, but I’m not sure—I don’t even know if I _can_. I think the Spring took its place.” He pressed a hand to his chest, where he used to feel the Heat and the Dark clawing at his lungs. “The damage isn’t fixed, and I don’t think my arm will ever fully work again, but I feel different. Like… like I’m not burning up from the inside. Like there’s life there, instead of emptiness.”

“I…” Throndir trailed off, worried and confused. “I’m not really a magic guy, so I don’t understand all of that. But if it means you’re not—that you won’t—”

Ephrim laughed a little, shrugging. “Who knows? Maybe it gets worse again in a year.”

“I hope not,” Throndir said, serious. “So you can, like, garden really well now?”

“I’ve been good at gardening for years,” Ephrim said, amused. “It’s more than that. I can control it, like my fire. And I can make new things grow too.” He gestured at the strange flower. “I can’t decide _what_ grows, but it’s always new, and kind of weird. Just like everything with the Spring, I guess. This one made me think of you.”

“Me?” Throndir asked, startled. He reached out a hand, as if to touch the plant, then hesitated. “Why?”

“I thought it looked like ice,” Ephrim said. “Right?”

Throndir looked from the plant, to Ephrim, and then back to the plant. Then he smiled, wide and happy, as he slid the pot closer to get a better look. “You know, it kinda does. I didn’t know plants could look like this.”

“I don’t think they can, normally,” Ephrim said. “Anyway, it made me think of you, so I wanted you to have it.”

“Have it?” Throndir asked, taken aback. “But—you _made_ it. I don’t know how to take care of it! What if I kill it?”

Ephrim laughed softly, and nudged the plant further across the table. “You won’t, I promise. It’s super low maintenance. Just put it in the sun. I’m pretty sure they live off ambient magic.”

Despite his hesitation, Throndir gingerly picked up the flower pot as if worried he might break it. He looked awestruck as he stood up from his chair and walked over to the bookshelf and placed the flower right in that patch of sunlight.

“Then it’ll be happy there. Best sun in the whole room,” Throndir said, turning the pot a little so the flowers better faced the sun. Ephrim knew he should say something—anything—knew he needed to take this opportunity to explain exactly what this gift meant. They were alone, and Throndir clearly cared about him, and Ephrim wasn’t sure he’d get a more romantic moment. But just as he was working up the nerve to say how he felt, Throndir turned back to him with a smile. “You wanna have dinner in the garden later? It’s been a while, and I don’t have anything to do if you’re free.”

Ephrim held back a sigh, all his courage slipping away. “Yeah, of course,” he said, smiling back. “I’ll meet you there.”

-

For the rest of the afternoon, Ephrim sat at his desk and doodled flowers on the margins of a drafted letter, debating his options as he waited for dinnertime. It was the end of the week, and all Ephrim had managed to accomplish was proving he was very much in love, and that Throndir didn’t understand subtlety. He could keep this up, and maybe, eventually, Throndir would get a clue, but that left open the option that Throndir would _never_ realize, or maybe find someone else _before_ he realized. If that happened, Ephrim was pretty sure he’d just suffer alone for the rest of his life.

Of course, he _could_ be more direct. Ephrim wasn’t opposed to being direct, in theory. But if Throndir wasn’t interested, Ephrim would look ridiculous and pathetic, and he liked having a good reputation. As long as he remained subtle, he wouldn’t have to deal with Throndir judging him, or, worse, pitying him. That, Ephrim thought, would be too much for him to handle. He’d have to leave the University and start a new life on some other branch of the Rhizome.

Ephrim didn’t let himself imagine a scenario where he was direct and Throndir reciprocated. False hope was never a good idea.

As it crept closer to dinner, Ephrim abandoned his work entirely to sit out on his balcony, surrounded by his small garden, taking comfort in the way they seemed to perk up in his presence.

“If the moment feels right,” he told them, touching one of the shimmering leaves. “I’ll say something if the moment feels right. That’s an okay compromise, yeah?”

One of the flowers let out a puff of glittering pollen, quickly blown away by the light breeze. Ephrim smiled, and hoped that was a sign of support, rather than a bad omen.

-

They met near the stairs down to the garden, just like they always did. Kodiak rushed ahead the moment he saw Ephrim walking towards them, barking happily before descending. The Rhizome had made the stairs slightly uneven, and Ephrim walked down them carefully after Throndir took the basket of food from his arms. Every few seconds, Throndir turned to look back at him as if he was worried Ephrim would careen down the stairs head first. If he’d tried this a month ago, Ephrim thought there was a chance that might have happened, but he was better now, his muscles less shaky, and they made it to the cavern without incident.

Despite the garden being an afterthought for the past month, it wasn’t so overgrown they couldn’t walk through it, and their usual spot was only a little smaller than it had been before as the surrounding plants began to encroach on the free space. Some of the plants were new, the Spring twisting in amongst the older growth, but many of the plants from Hieron had managed to survive. Ephrim smiled, lightly touching a few leaves as Throndir cleared away some of the debris from the area. Kodiak was already laying down near the water, batting at it as it splashed over pebbles, and everything felt normal, like a day from _before_ , enough that as they sat down next to each other, Ephrim finally began to relax.

“How was the rest of your day?” Throndir asked as he began to take all the food out of the basket, passing things over to Ephrim before taking any for himself. “Busy?”

“Not really,” Ephrim said, deciding to leave out the fact that he probably _should’ve_ been busy, but had slacked off thinking about Throndir instead. “Approved some new buildings, at least. We really need more housing.”

“You don’t have to tell me that. We’re running out of space in the barracks too, and that’s just the people without families. The dorms have been full for months, and all of this,” Throndir gestured around them, “only made it worse. We hadn’t even fixed all the _existing_ structural damage.”

Ephrim pressed his hand to his temple and briefly closed his eyes. “Trust me, you don’t want to see the engineering reports.”

Throndir grimaced. “That bad?”

“Worse, probably,” Ephrim said. “And everyone keeps forcing me to stop working early, so nothing’s getting _done_ —”

“You almost _died_ ,” Throndir snapped, then seemed to realize what he’d said, or maybe how he’d said it, and flinched as if struck by a physical blow. He hunched over food he wasn’t eating, and let out a long sigh. “Sorry. I just—I was really worried. Sorry.”

Ephrim swallowed around the tightness in his throat and pressed his left hand to his chest. “It’s okay,” he said, not sure what else he could do. He watched as Throndir picked at the food in his lap, gaze taking in the way his shoulders curled inward, self-conscious. The dark circles under his eyes were worse again, Ephrim noticed, purple smudges deep and dark on his brown skin the way he’d looked in the early years at the University, when they’d all worked much too hard for far too little. Guilt tugged at his chest. He’d been so wrapped up in himself that he hadn’t noticed. He should’ve noticed.

“Throndir,” Ephrim said quietly, reaching up to run his thumb beneath Throndir’s eye. “Have you fed at all since everything happened?”

Throndir jumped a little at the touch, turning quickly enough to dislodge Ephrim’s hand. “What?” he asked, blinking in confusion. “No, of course not.”

Of _course_ not. Throndir had always hated doing it, hated knowing he might hurt people, even strangers and villains. It didn’t matter how much he was hurting as long as no one else was. Ephrim sighed and withdrew his hand, resting it back on his lap. “You need to take care of yourself, too, Throndir.”

“I’m fine. Really,” Throndir said with a crooked smile. “I already promised I wouldn’t eat your emotions anymore, remember?”

Ephrim frowned, frustration building. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m not afraid you’re going to hurt me. I know you won’t. I worry about you, too, you know.”

Throndir looked away from him again, out at the rest of the garden and how it had changed. On the other side of the cavern, giant roots broke through the soil and rocks piled at the base of the cavern walls, but closer to them, remnants of their garden remained: the Sun’s Breath, still growing bright white where they’d begun cultivating it that second year; the herb garden Ephrim had laid out in year three and Throndir had helped him care for when his illness had gotten worse. Somehow the stream still burbled up from the wellspring at the north of the cavern, though Ephrim had no idea what its source was. Magic, he supposed, just like the rest of the Rhizome. And through all of that, through all of those years at the University when he’d struggled, through those final days as Hieron collapsed around them, through his own recovery, Throndir had put aside his own needs to help other people. To help _Ephrim_.

 _Say something_ , he thought, chest tight, _now, say something now, say—_

“Look,” he managed, clearing his throat. “If it’s better if someone offers—if you need to feed—”

“ _No_ ,” Throndir interrupted, head snapping back to look at Ephrim. “Ephrim, no. I won’t do that to you again.”

“I know what to expect this time!” Ephrim said, reaching out again before he could stop himself, hand hovering just above Throndir’s arm. “And it won’t hurt me anymore. The Spring—”

“It’s not just that,” Throndir said, shaking his head. “It’s not just that I could hurt you—and I _could_.” He huffed out an impatient sigh. “I need… feelings. Emotions, right? Strong feelings are better, because there’s more there for me to take. But even when there’s a lot there, like when I’m in a crowd of people, it still leaves things…” His voice trailed off and he frowned, clearly trying to find the right words. “Muted. Quieter. You won’t feel normal, and I don’t know how long it lasts. I’m not going to do that to you, okay?”

Ephrim’s heart beat against his ribs like a prisoner shaking the bars of a jail cell. He had to force himself to take a breath, a slow inhale and slow exhale, as he moved his hand from above Throndir’s arm to his cheek again, not quite touching.

“I really don’t know how you haven’t figured it out,” he said, voice unsteady. “But I think I can spare some of my strong feelings. I have plenty.”

Throndir frowned, confused, but when he reached up to wrap his hand loosely around Ephrim’s wrist, Ephrim couldn’t stop a helpless laugh from escaping. In the face of Throndir’s confusion and worry and care, the words came easily, bubbling up inside him before he could even think to stop. It wasn’t so scary after all.

“I spent this whole week trying to figure out if I stood a chance, but I probably should’ve just talked to you in the first place,” he said, and finally rested the tips of his fingers against Throndir’s skin, a light touch. “Throndir, if you need strong feelings, I’ve been in love with you for years.”

“Wuh,” Throndir tried to say. “Lo— _years_?”

“Is it really that hard to believe?” Ephrim asked, his smile crooked and little melancholy. “Do you remember when we got stuck in that cave? That second year, when that big storm hit. I had already—you were nice, and cute, and we worked well together. And then for three weeks, when we were trapped there, you took care of me. And you never complained, or got mad about my hand making things harder, or—or anything. Like you were happy to help. Like you were happy I was there with you.”

Throndir’s hand tightened around Ephrim’s wrist, and he leaned forward just slightly. “I _was_ ,” he said, then continued, “I mean, not that we were stuck, but if I had to be stuck with anyone—” He broke off, looking away and making a face at his own inability to articulate his thoughts. “I guess I just never thought—you’re so smart, and beautiful, and _way_ out of my league—”

“I don’t know about that,” Ephrim interrupted, laughing even as he felt a blush rising to his cheeks.

“You are! You’re amazing,” Throndir said fervently. At some point when Ephrim had been talking he must have put his food to the side, because it wasn’t in his lap anymore when he shifted to sit closer to Ephrim. Their thighs pressed together, and Ephrim could smell leather and gunpowder. Throndir’s gaze traced the blush on Ephrim’s cheeks. “I just never thought I had a chance.”

“There was never anyone else,” Ephrim said softly. “It’s always been you.”

Throndir moved his hand up to Ephrim’s, pulling it down from his face to cradle in both his hands between them. He looked down as he ran his thumb across Ephrim’s knuckles, clear wonder on his face. “I didn’t know,” he said, tightening his grip. “I really didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do.” Ephrim watched Throndir’s face carefully, swallowing nervously. “I—I’m not expecting—I know it’s a lot, all at once.” He paused, trying to ignore the way his chest tightened and ached. There was a time, when he was younger, when he’d have pushed for an answer. When the idea that anyone wouldn’t be interested in him seemed impossible. Or, if they weren’t, he didn’t see the problem in _making_ them interested. That’s what his gifts were for, after all. He was meant to be loved.

Things were different now, for a lot of reasons. There were a lot of things he’d come to regret about who he’d been. And anyway, it wasn’t as if Throndir didn’t care; of course Throndir cared. Ephrim had never questioned _that_.

Throndir looked up from their hands, his expression momentarily unreadable before he smiled, small and a little unsure. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his thumb still running back and forth across Ephrim’s knuckles. “Please.”

“Oh,” Ephrim said, sitting up a little straighter. He felt his face heat up again, warmth spreading up his neck and face, all the way to his ears. Throndir’s smile widened, and he lifted a hand to brush the back of his fingers along Ephrim’s cheek. Ephrim closed his eyes, sighing when Throndir gently touched his jaw. He nodded, his own hand turning over to hold tightly to Throndir’s. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

Throndir tilted Ephrim’s head to the side, and, before Ephrim could really prepare himself, Throndir kissed him.

Ephrim had been kissed before, but not in a long time, and never by someone he loved. He gasped against Throndir’s mouth as heat ran through his stomach, and a shiver up his spine. Throndir’s hand felt so large against his face, holding Ephrim at just the right angle to take it from _good_ to _great_. Ephrim couldn’t think, too overwhelmed by sensations: the chill of Throndir’s lips, his comforting and familiar scent, the calluses on his fingertips. Even though the kiss was nothing more than a careful pressure, Ephrim’s mind was full of roaring white noise, desperation crawling up his chest.

After a few seconds, Throndir pulled away, though he didn’t go far. He rested their foreheads together and sighed, and when Ephrim opened his eyes, Throndir’s were still closed.

“I’m such an idiot,” Throndir said. He slid his hand to the back of Ephrim’s head, tangling in his hair, keeping him close. “I was so convinced I didn’t have a chance. I wouldn’t let myself imagine it. _God_. If I’d realized sooner—”

Ephrim laughed quietly and squeezed his hand. “Honestly, I thought the same thing. Until you came to my office before you left for Marielda, and—” He broke off and laughed again as Throndir groaned and dropped his head to Ephrim’s shoulder. “You were so convinced I was upset with you, and wanted you to stay away. The whole time, I thought _you_ wanted _me_ to leave you alone. I thought you knew how I felt and were finally sick of me.”

Throndir tilted his head so he could look at Ephrim with a lopsided smile, still resting on his shoulder. “If I didn’t get sick of you over the past decade,” he said, his words echoing something he’d said to Ephrim during that conversation over a month ago, “I don’t think I ever could.”

“You should kiss me again,” Ephrim said as his heart continued to pound in his chest.

This time, when Throndir sat up and leaned in, Ephrim met him halfway.

The desperation, the _need_ inside Ephrim returned. He let go of Throndir’s hand and grabbed at the collar of his shirt. Throndir reached up to cradle his head between both hands, holding Ephrim in place as he deepened the kiss. Ephrim whimpered, suddenly so grateful they were already sitting down as Throndir’s tongue pressed against his, as Throndir’s fingers slid through his hair. For now, he was more than happy to let Throndir take the lead, to rely on him as he always had. He couldn’t do anything except take whatever Throndir gave him, not just trusting but _knowing_ that Throndir would make him feel good.

Even when he’d been healthier, Throndir was bigger, stronger. He could keep Ephrim in whatever position he wanted, for as long as he wanted. Just thinking about that made Ephrim shiver, his moan lost in Throndir’s mouth. Throndir’s hands tightened in his hair, pulling, the sharp points of pain contrasting with the slow pleasure of Throndir’s tongue against his own. He wanted to touch skin, he wanted Throndir in his bed, he _wanted_ —

“My glove,” he gasped as he caught his breath, then kissed Throndir again before continuing, “I need to—”

“Yeah,” Throndir mumbled against Ephrim’s mouth. As they kissed again, Throndir took his hands out of Ephrim’s hair to help pull off his left glove, tossing it to the side. Ephrim slid his hand beneath the collar of Throndir’s shirt, across his chest, over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if, as a vampire, Throndir was particularly cold, or if Ephrim himself still ran particularly hot, but the temperature difference was noticeable. This time it was Throndir who shivered as he wrapped his arms around Ephrim’s waist, pulling him closer.

Ephrim carefully draped his right arm around Throndir’s shoulders. Pressed together like this, with Throndir holding him, Ephrim felt strangely vulnerable. Aware of how weak he was compared to Throndir, whose muscles were built up from years of work. Aware of how fragile he was from the Heat and the Dark, from his arm. And, somehow, aware that Throndir knew all of this and didn’t care. Or—not that he didn’t care, but that he cared about those parts of Ephrim _too_.

Throndir kissed along his jaw, and Ephrim tilted his head to the side, trying to catch his breath. He’d be embarrassed by the fact that he was already hard, but when Throndir leaned forward, pushing Ephrim back down onto the moss, he could feel that Throndir was, too.

“Why are we _outside_?” Throndir said, hands at Ephrim’s hips. His teeth scraped at Ephrim’s neck, just above the collar of his shirt, and Ephrim gasped. “I wanna get you _undressed_.”

“I mean, feel free,” Ephrim said, breathless. “Though getting back up to the tower right now might be—”

“Someone could see,” Throndir said, though it wasn’t very convincing, particularly as he untucked Ephrim’s shirt to touch skin.

Ephrim looked around as he trailed his left hand back and forth across Throndir’s shoulders. “There’s no one here. Even Kodiak left.”

“Probably got bored with us,” Throndir mumbled, face hidden against Ephrim’s neck. For a moment he didn’t do anything else, just stayed close, his thumbs moving back and forth across the skin of Ephrim’s hips. Even this, Ephrim thought, was nearly enough: the closeness he’d wanted for so long, this perfect, wonderful thing he thought he’d never have. He didn’t want to move ever again.

Finally, Throndir shifted, kissing once beneath Ephrim’s jaw, then his cheek, then his mouth, careful and slow, exploratory. Ephrim tried to press up against him, seeking any kind of friction, but Throndir’s hands tightened on his hips, holding him down against the moss. Ephrim made a broken noise as heat rushed down to his stomach, down his legs. Desperation came back in full force, and his knees bent instinctively, pressing tight against Throndir’s hips.

“I got you,” Throndir said against his lips. “Don’t worry.”

“Throndir—” was all Ephrim managed before Throndir’s hands moved from his hips to the buttons of his pants, undoing them with more dexterity than Ephrim thought he could manage right now. Ephrim shouted as Throndir’s hands brushed against him, left fingers digging into Throndir’s shoulders, head tilting back hard against the moss.

“I was so stupid,” Throndir said softly. “ _God_ , you’re beautiful. I wasted so much time.” He tugged Ephrim’s pants down just far enough, then paused with his fingers hooked into the waistband of Ephrim’s underwear. “Let me make it up to you?”

“You don’t—” Ephrim started, trying to keep himself from moving restlessly, eyes screwed shut. “You don’t have to make up for—for anything. Throndir—”

“I really do.” Throndir leaned down and pressed a kiss against his chest, through his clothes, right over his frantic heart. “Let me take care of you.”

Ephrim made a noise that wasn’t quite a sob, but closer to one than he would’ve liked given Throndir hadn’t even touched him yet. He nodded, gasping “ _yes_ ,” as Throndir pushed up his shirt and pressed a kiss to the bare skin of his stomach, the heels of his boots pressing deeper into the dirt.

Throndir pulled down his underwear and kissed the crease of his thigh, biting the red indents from his clothes on his skin. And, finally, Throndir’s mouth on him; Ephrim’s body jerked at the mix of sensations, the coolness against his flushed skin, the strength of Throndir’s hands still holding down his hips. He shouted loudly enough that, for a moment, Ephrim was worried someone _would_ hear, but he couldn’t hold onto the thought. Throndir wasn’t rushed, exactly, but he didn’t move slowly either, his own desperation a mirror to Ephrim’s. His fingers flexed, points of pressure against Ephrim’s hips, hard enough to make Ephrim notice. Hard enough that it made him _imagine_ bruises, physical reminders that he could see every day, that he could line up his own hand with and _push_ —

“Throndir,” Ephrim said, voice rough and cracking halfway through, “I can’t— _please_ —”

Throndir hummed, and this time Ephrim _did_ sob, gasping for air, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, his hair a tangled mess beneath him. He wasn’t going to last—he knew he wasn’t, no matter how badly he wanted to draw it out—it had been too long, and he could barely believe it was actually happening, and Throndir wasn’t pulling away—

Ephrim’s left hand gripped the shoulder of Throndir’s shirt, all his muscles tensing up; he felt it then, something familiar, a wave of weakness through his body even as he shivered with pleasure. White stars bloomed behind his eyelids, and he heard himself gasp, and then, for the briefest moment, he blacked out. He blinked awake to Throndir sitting back up, rubbing a hand across his mouth, staring at Ephrim in amazement. His cheeks were flushed red; his hands were now warm on Ephrim’s hips; his dark circles were gone.

“You—” Throndir says, pauses, clears his throat. “I didn’t mean to—I _promised_ —”

“It’s fine,” Ephrim said, laughing softly, still out of breath. Despite the fact that Throndir had siphoned away some of his emotions, he didn’t feel any of the side effects Throndir had been worried about. He held out his arms and Throndir collapsed against him, sliding his arms around Ephrim’s waist. “I told you it would be fine.”

Throndir was quiet, face pressed again to Ephrim’s shoulder, breathing slowly. “I could feel it. Your—how you feel about me, I mean,” he whispered. “You’re amazing. I don’t deserve you.”

Ephrim put his hand on the back of Throndir’s neck. “I hate that you think that. You’re pretty amazing, too.” Throndir didn’t say anything, but he didn’t move his arms around Ephrim’s waist either. After a moment, Ephrim blinked up at the ceiling of the cavern and then looked down at the top of Throndir’s head. “Hey, can I—do you need me to…?”

For the first time since they’d met, Ephrim watched the tips of Throndir’s pointed ears flush with embarrassment. He hadn’t even known Throndir _could_ blush. “Um,” Throndir said, pushing himself partially off of Ephrim, cheeks dark red. “When I—I mean, when _you_ —uh. It really was an accident.”

Ephrim moved his hand from Throndir’s neck to his cheek, running his thumb beneath Throndir’s eye. “Next time,” he said, smiling and unable to stop.

“Definitely,” Throndir said, smiling too. “Soon? I hope?”

“Well, we should probably finish eating first,” Ephrim said, glancing over at the abandoned food. “But you’re welcome to carry me to bed after that.”

Throndir leaned down and kissed him again, slow and sweet and perfect, and Ephrim sighed, briefly wondering if it was possible to just keep kissing Throndir forever. In between kisses, Throndir helped him get his pants back on, not bothering to tuck his shirt back in. When he pulled back, Throndir had an amused expression on his face, his cheeks still faintly red.

“I mean, if you’re hungry, sure,” Throndir said, “but I just ate, so…”

“Oh my _god_ , shut _up_ ,” Ephrim said, laughing, even as he leaned their foreheads together. “Let’s _go_ , then.”

And—well. If he was a little embarrassed that people saw them making their way back to the Tower, waking up the next morning with Throndir still in his bed more than made up for it.


End file.
